


The Watcher at the Window

by viktuuriousred



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Chronic Illness, Depressed Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Oblivious Katsuki Yuuri, POV Victor Nikiforov, Pining, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-05 22:05:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12198300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viktuuriousred/pseuds/viktuuriousred
Summary: For eyes that have memorized every boring old street, every boring old place, every boring old person,it must be fate that you came completely new.





	The Watcher at the Window

**March**

They opened the window yesterday for the first time since Christmas. The city looks the same. I don’t care.  
I don’t want to care.  
I’ve convinced myself that  
when I close my eyes  
I won’t open them again  
so when I look out the window now  
I try to keep them open for as long as possible.

But I’m not sure there’s ever been anything worth watching.

So I don’t.

You can look without watching, you know.

I’ve been in bed long enough to tell you that.

* * *

**April**

I was staring outside on Easter Sunday. Relatives visited, none came upstairs.

They didn’t want to make me worse.

Mom left a plate of sampled food from dinner. She gave me one of her looks, the one that says she wishes I would hurry up and Go so she could clear everything out and make space for her dream office.

“I’m sorry,” I said to her.

“Sorry for what?”

I could have told her, but she wasn’t listening. I could tell.

Three months ago Dad got drunk and decided life wasn’t worth it after he found out he didn’t have a job anymore and I was coming back to stay. He jumped off a bridge.

Mom hates me for killing him.

I’m still sorry.

* * *

 

**May**

I think that the days when I don’t look outside at all are better than the ones I do.  
Because when I do, I barely look away and my eyes feel like they’re  
burning out of their sockets, and  
I get so terrible of headaches that I have to take  
even more pills, and  
I miss dinner, and Mom stays alone.  
She hates when I do this.  
But today,  
today I had a reason to keep watching.

At nine in the morning, it was raining. At noon, it was raining. At three, it stopped, but the streets were filled with puddles and mud and people still carried their umbrellas. But He didn’t.

The air was humid. It fogged His glasses.

His glasses have blue rims. He took them off to clear them and I saw His eyes.

They are brown. They sparkle when He laughs to Himself about getting sprayed by a car splashing through a puddle. His dark hair is messy; I can tell He likes it that way.

He was visiting the cafe across the road from my room.

I don’t think He’ll come back.

But I keep looking anyway  
because  
when I saw Him, I  
felt something.

* * *

 

Before, I...

I hardly think about Before.

My name was Victor Nikiforov. I was a college student,  
I was a brother,  
I was a skater,  
I was a boyfriend,  
I had a dog named Makkachin,  
I had a Mom and a Dad.  
I was twenty-six when It happened.  
I don’t like talking about It.

Mom gave up asking. She gave up on everything except her Dream Room, I think.

Especially me, because I…

I just broke.

My whole body decided to throw me out.

I’m still broken now.

I _could_ walk. I _could_ talk. I _could_ leave this room.

But I don’t  
want  
to do that.

Because I’m not Victor Nikiforov and I’m not lovable and I’m not smart and I’m not strong and I’m not talented and I’m not sweet and I’m not kind and I’m not funny and I’m not handsome and I’m not worth anything and I’m not alive inside and I’m not

I’m not.

And  
my mother convinced everyone that  
Victor would be back soon.

She makes Victor smile for pictures so everyone can  
see that he’s still here and doing well.

He’s not.

I’m not.

* * *

 

**June**

He likes dogs.

The man with the blue-rimmed glasses and sparkling eyes.

I saw him again today.

Mom took Makkachin for a walk and  
the leash broke, so  
she waited for Makkachin to come back.

He brought her back.

I pushed open the window myself to hear His voice.

“Thank you,” Mom takes the dog’s collar. “Thank you.”

He smiles. “I have a poodle too. He gets away sometimes.”

And His voice  
makes me feel something.

The way His pink lips are shaped,  
the movement of His jaw,  
those smooth flowing words that glide effortlessly out of His mouth,  
none of it  
nothing.  
compares to the beauty of His voice.

When I hear His voice, my heart wakes up.  
It starts beating.  
Butterflies twist in my stomach for the first time since Before and my cheeks are tingling from  
Smiling?

Invite Him in, Mom.

Please.

I’ll come downstairs.

“Makkachin is very important to my son. You have no idea how thankful I am.”

“Oh, you have a son? It’s a shame he didn’t come with you on such a lovely day. There’s going to be a summer festival at the park tonight. Everyone’s going. There’ll even be fireworks. Dogs are welcome too.” He laughs, leaning down to pet Makkachin.

“My son doesn’t live with me anymore.” She says.

She’s _lying_!

I’m _right here_!

_Tell him I’m here, Mom!_

She lets Him go!

She doesn’t tell Him anything about me!

_She let Him go!_

* * *

 

**July**

Today, while I was sleeping,  Mom brought in someone to check measurements for her Dream Office.

When I woke up, she said, “This bed needs to move out of the way.”

“Where?” I asked.

“Closer to the window.” She said. “The man couldn’t get a proper measurement. Push it closer to the window.”

Why?

So I can just look outside  
and wait for Him to come back?

Because He hasn’t.

And since He walked away,  
the feeling is gone.

* * *

 

I woke up last night and watched outside for Him.

As if He would walk by at that very moment and see me and really SEE me.

No one SEES me.

But Him. I keep imagining that He will. He’ll see me, he’ll SEE me, he’ll understand me, he’ll want me, he’ll love me, he’ll…

I started to cry for the first time since Before.

Another First. I should keep a list.

**Things that He has made me feel:**

**Everything.**

**Nothing.**

 

And it’s incredibly stupid to think that someone who’s passed my house would ever want anything to do with me.

Even Victor Nikiforov knows that.

He knows it, but he doesn’t want to believe it.

* * *

 

**August**

 

I went to the hospital for three weeks.

Mom drove me there.

They asked: “What do you want from us, ma’am?”

“Just fix him!” She’d exclaimed, furiously writing someone on her phone about how tired she was of me taking up her Dream Office.

They turned to me. “What do YOU want?”

I looked up. “Him,” I said.

They didn’t understand. They didn’t make it happen.

Still,

They made me take more pills to fix me.

If I had Him, maybe I would be better.

I don’t need pills.

I need _purpose._

Maybe He feels the same way. Maybe he wanders those streets alone and searches for  
someone  
because he feels like someone out there just might care for him but he can’t find them and he’s frustrated and confused and sad and lonely like me he doesn’t understand why nobody loves him anymore and

He doesn’t know that I’ve given him a purpose.

He’s kept me alive all these months,  
given me something to think about.

I hope He’s alright. I hope one day, I can tell Him what He’s done for me.

* * *

 

**September**

 

“Get out of this room!” She thrust a finger into my chest. “You Don’t Need To Live In This Exact Room! Go Be A Slob Someplace Else!”

When I said No,  
she threw all of my belongings onto the street below in frustration.

I can’t say I blame her.

I’ve been getting better, getting active around the house, but I won’t give her this room. It makes her so angry.  
I’ve even heard her call and ask friends what to do about me.

I had to go outside to pick up my belongings.

Not that they matter, but  
some things belonged to my father. She’ll want them again when she stops hurting so badly every time she sees me and really sees Dad.

When I go outside, the sun  
burns my eyes,  
and so I can’t look higher than the sidewalk.

That’s why I didn’t notice Him walking towards me.

“Hey, do you need help?” He taps my shoulder.

My heart starts beating. Faster and faster and faster and faster and  
I want to leap into His arms and never let go.

“It’s you…” It’s _you_! The One who makes me _feel_.

He smiles shyly, bending down to help me gather the fallen items.

My hands forget how to work.

“What’s your name?” He looks at me. Our faces are just inches apart…

My name?

I haven’t… I’m not… How can I…?

“I’m Victor.” I smile back at him. But I’m not Victor! At least, I’m not That Victor.

That Victor had friends and romances and money and good grades and a job and a car and a healthy brain and the world approving of his empty, meaningless life.

But this Victor- me- is just someone who wants Him and peace.

“My name’s Yuuri.”

And that was the moment that “Him” became more than a person on the street. He was now a person in my life.

Yuuri.

* * *

 

**October**

Yuuri likes this time of year the best of all. He says that he collects the prettiest of fallen leaves because he wants to decorate his room with them.

He gave me one before he left for work today.

He’s an ice skating coach downtown.

He’s asked me to come and watch him sometime, maybe skate with him.

Maybe someday I will. For now, I shake my head.

I’ve left the house three times since we properly met. He’s been to my house nine times. Called me four times.

Today, we almost kissed.

Almost.

We were talking. He feels comfortable opening up to me. He says he feels like we share some sort of pre-destined connection. I know how he feels, I’ve felt all sorts of things since I first saw his eyes.

We didn’t kiss because  
Mom.

Just Mom.

Doing her usual thing of ruining the only good that’s come to my life since Before.

This time, she needed me to help bring in a package for her Dream Room that I still sleep in.

Yuuri tucked some of his hair behind his ear and squeezed my hand. I can still feel it.

“I’ll see you at the rink, then.”

And my heart was   
pounding out of my chest!

So I went to the rink.

* * *

 

**November**

I wasn’t home for twenty-four hours.

It was Yuuri’s birthday.

His family threw him a party at his house, and he asked that I come along with him.

“Who’s this, Yuuri?” His sister looked critical of me. She wouldn't approve of me no matter which Victor I pretended to be.

“This is just my friend, Victor.”

Just my friend, he said.

Just his friend.

* * *

I haven’t thought about love since Before.

And even then I don’t think I ever truly  
loved someone.  
but him,  
I just do.

It comes so naturally.

When I’m with him, I feel things.  
When I’m with him, I’m inspired to get better and start over.

When he meets my eyes, my heartbeat quickens, my body tingles, and my mind is overcome with joy that I’m actually feeling again.

I love Yuuri.

I love him.

I love…

* * *

** December **

Christmas dinner was quiet.

Mom had her phone in her hands and couldn’t look at me. I made dinner.

She wanted me out of her house.

She was looking for another house for me to live in.

She was looking for a job for me.

She wanted me out of her life.

“Mom-”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were _gay_?”

The word felt like a bullet to my brain.

I knew what gay meant.

I knew it probably- to an outsider, at least, described me and Yuuri’s love- but to me,

I couldn’t find a single word in-

**How many words are in the English language?**

 

 

 

> _“ The Second Edition of the 20-volume Oxford English Dictionary contains full entries for 171,476 words in current use, and 47,156 obsolete words. To this may be added around 9,500 derivative words included as subentries.”_
> 
>  

Okay.

None of them describe how I feel about Yuuri.

After dinner, he came to the house.

Mom was upset; locked up in her room to process the horror of my silent confirmation of her suspicions.

It was just me and him on the front porch.

Before midnight, he gave me a card with a puppy telling a joke on the front. His cheeks were pink.

“I love you.” I blurted.

His beautiful brown eyes widened as he likely repeated the words in his head, the way they echo in mine every time I see him.

_I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you_

He seals the gap between us, and against my lips, whispers, “I love you, too.”

**Things Yuuri makes me feel:**

**Everything**

**~~Nothing~~ \- ~~not anymore.~~**

**Loved**

**Happy?**

 

Maybe.

Maybe!

* * *

 

**January**

Earlier I watched Yuuri leave my house from the window on my bed, hugging himself against the morning’s cold. He looked up at the window, where I was sitting, and he smiled at me, waving a hand.

I waved back.

We’re officially dating and things are going better.

He’s just frustrated that I don’t have a job or a plan for the future.

And he thinks I stare out the window too much.

That doesn’t matter. I won’t tell him why I do this just yet.

Last night, our bodies merged together for the first time and for those brief moments I felt everything at once,  
every emotion that’d been stalled in my mind all these months came bursting out of me and I felt  
I felt completely alive.

Oh, what is the matter with me?

* * *

 

**February**

“You… you need _help,_ Victor.”

No.

“This isn’t healthy. What you’re doing.”

Please, please…

“I’m not comfortable with you obsessing over me. I thought things were going alright, but… I mean, you barely leave your house. What are we doing? Are we ever going to take our relationship to the next level or are you just going to sit there for the rest of your life?”

“What do you want?” I can barely breathe.

“I want to Go places. I want you to come with me. I want you to experience life! Why have you been hiding in here for so long? What happened?"

“You wouldn’t understand. You can’t. You just can’t.” My hands shake, my entire body shakes. “Yuuri. You saved me. You gave me everything. I would die without you.”

He can’t understand why I watch people from the window. Why I seldom leave my mother’s house and don’t like hearing my name or seeing myself in the mirror or anything to do with me and fight with my mother over staying in this room and won’t get a place of my own and won’t listen to her and won’t take my pills and

And to think I’d been doing so much better…

“I think I need some space.”

He left me.

I feel every emotion sucked out of me, following Yuuri out of my house.

I feel  
nothing.

Oh, but I feel _everything_.

It hurts worse than anything I’ve been through thus far.

I watch him leave from the window and know he is never coming back.

My mind screams _I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you  
_ as he disappears around the corner.

But I find no strength to call after him.

* * *

 

“You can have your room now.” I tell my mother that night.

I’m finally done.

I leave the house.

I don’t come back.

* * *

 

** March **

“I was sick.” I say.  
“I couldn’t feel anything.” I say.  
“I knew something was wrong with me and I couldn’t solve it.” I say.  
“My brain died. Whoever I was before died too.” I say.  
“But you brought a new version of myself to life. You introduced me to love. I never wanted the wealth, the popularity, the luck of my old life. All I ever wanted was for someone to love me. To _really_ love me.”

Yuuri opens his front door a bit wider.

“I don’t want to die again. But I don’t want you to die trying to save me. I just want to be by your side.”

“You love me?”

“I do.”

“I’m not perfect, Victor.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I want to help you get better.”

“You already have.”

“Why were you watching for me at the window all those months? Why do you care about me at all? I’ve done nothing for you.”

“You gave me purpose. I can breathe again because of you.”

He lets me back in eventually.

As time passes, I gain strength and health and begin to live again, all the time. But he still helps me. He still listens to me. He begins to understand, and I understand him. We have healed each other. I finally told him why I hid in my room for so long, and he helped me move on.

I can look in the mirror again. I can use my name.

I still watch for him out the window on the days I’m back from work before he is,  
waiting for him to come home.

I am Victor Nikiforov-Katsuki, and I am _alive_.

* * *

**Things Yuuri Has Made Me Feel***

**Wanted**

**Loved**

**Appreciated**

**Everything**

**Happy**

**Alive**

**Sad**

**Giddy**

**Angry**

**Patient**

**Relieved**

**Livid**

**Peaceful**

**Worth something**

**Free**

 

***The list, for as long as time shall go, for as long as our hearts beat together, for as long as breath fills my lungs and my eyes work and the trees and flowers bloom and the world turns  
will continue to grow just as much as our unexpected, destined, intense, beautiful, powerful, incredibly happy and prosperous love of five years and counting.**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this story may come across as a little "odd" because this isn't my usual writing style, but actually, the writing here is the closest thing to how I would like to portray a one-shot. This is my favorite style, and I really enjoyed writing this. 
> 
> Should I continue? What do you think? 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
